So, Five Espada Were Sitting on a Couch
by Bjorn
Summary: Follow the adventures of Grimmjow and friends as they boldly venture into Halibel's quarters. Their mission? To catch a glimpse of just what's behind that high collar. They get more than they expected. Featuring bored Espada, many injokes, and a Couch.


Disclaimer: All characters and other thingies within belong to their respective creators. 

Notes: You know, I honestly think I do my best humor with excessive amounts of profanity. I believe this is not because profanity is intrinsically funny - well, it is, but let's ignore that for a bit - but because I, being a potty-mouthed individual myself, sympathize well with characters who talk like me. That is, with more fucks than a room full of prostitutes. 

This was also done for a challenge much like the one that spawned Gaining Respect; start the story with the first line written below. 

Also, capitals are funny. Heheh. 

--- 

**So, Five Espada Were Sitting on a Couch...**

--- 

"Okay, before anything else, I want ya to know: this wasn't my idea." 

It was true, even. Kinda. 

It all started with Stark. 

--- 

In one of his rare moments of... being the fuck awake, Stark loudly announced that he was bored. Aaroniero, who was channeling that goofy shinigami with black hair again for some reason, promptly agreed. Equally loudly. 

Moments later, Nnoitra walked by with what Grimmjow had come to think of as That Goddamn Whale Grin on his face, then stopped as he noticed the three Espada lounging on the Couch. 

Grimmjow took a moment to think about the Couch. It wasn't a couch. It was a Couch. Grimmjow thought that if it had been any bigger it'd have been a **_Couch_**, but it wasn't. This was a good thing, because if it _had_ then they'd probably be kneeling to it instead of to Aizen. He privately suspected that the long stone seat - large enough to comfortably accommodate all ten Espada and their shinigami superiors - had a mind of its own, because whenever he was alone in the room with it he felt like he was being watched. 

Perhaps it was all the Couch's doing. That was a good, sound, sane idea. It neatly explained just how the hell Nnoitra came to be lounging on the Couch with them, his That Goddamn Whale Grin turned into a That Goddamn Whale Frown as he expounded on how bored he was, too. It didn't help that Nnoitra was the tallest Espada - Grimmjow privately suspected that the idiot confused _tallest_ and _strongest_ on a regular basis - and that he was lying full length in the center of the Couch, all knobby knees and sharp elbows and taking up too much goddamn space. 

Things just went straight to hell from there. 

Syazel came along next, sashaying his hips in a way that made Grimmjow very unhappy in his pants. The pink-haired, effeminate arrancar was not only openly bisexual, did not only have the creepiest zanpakuto this side of Fuck That's Creepy, but also had a way of dropping such a huge amount of casual innuendo into conversation that made it extremely uncomfortable for any of the gathered Espada to talk to him. Ulquiorra had no such problems, but then again Grimmjow was fairly sure that Ulquiorra's sex drive had long since abandoned him for someone who bore less resemblance to the saddest clown in the world. 

"May I ask what you're all doing... _together_... on the Couch?" Syazel inquired. He leered and licked his lips and said it in a way that made Nnoitra sit the fuck up and keep his hands and feet inside the goddamn compartment at all times. Then he sat down daintily on the empty space that Nnoitra had recently vacated and started gossiping. 

So it came to be that five bored men - well, four bored men and one bored fruity bastard, Grimmjow amended in his head - came to be gathered in one spot. And naturally, the topic eventually shifted from boredom to why the hell Nnoitra's hood was shaped like a gigantic spoon (Nnoitra himself staunchly refused to explain, leading to much rampant speculation, not the least plausible of which was some bizarre sort of penis envy) to who could fire the biggest cero (Grimmjow won, blessing Las Noches with a brand-new skylight) before finally settling on what all idle conversations between bored men who weren't in mixed company naturally did: women. 

They learned that Grimmjow and Stark were ass men, while Nnoitra was a breast man and Syazel preferred legs. Aaroniero professed to liking quite a bit of everything because of all the hollows he'd eaten, which had all had different tastes. 

"...Damn, we're fuckin' pathetic," Grimmjow said at length. He propped a leg up on the Couch's massive arm. "Five guys together and all we're doin' is just sittin' here shootin' the shit about girls." He paused, staring at the ceiling as a thought occurred to him. "Hey." 

"Ever wonder what Halibel looks like behind that collar?" 

--- 

Okay, so it _was_ his idea. 

--- 

Being the one who'd come up with the plan - which they all agreed was a fantastic if possibly suicidal one - Grimmjow was appointed as the de facto leader. He promptly decided to haul ass out of the Couch's territory before it warped the laws of probability even more than it already had and someone like Yammy came to join in on the fun. Or, gods forbid, Ulquiorra. 

As it turned out, someone far worse than even the World's Saddest Clown was destined to join their motley band. Namely, former captain of the Gotei 13's 3rd Division, Ichimaru Gin. 

Gin appeared out of nowhere like a smiling-vulpine-bastard ghost, sneaking up from behind them as they entered Halibel's quarters and slinging a friendly arm over Stark's shoulders. 

"Well, well. What're ya guys doing in _here?_" he asked casually, his ever present grin seeming to suggest he already knew the answer. "Mind if I join in?" 

Stark replied, in all honesty, "We're going to peep on Halibel." 

Gin's grin slipped for a moment. Apparently, he hadn't known the answer after all. 

"We were bored as hell," Nnoitra expanded. Beside him, Aaroniero nodded. 

Gin's eyes opened, just a fraction. 

"The Couch made me do it," muttered Grimmjow sullenly. 

Gin blinked, unsure of what to say, before shrugging, willfully forgetting what Grimmjow had said and letting his smirk make a reappearance. Trying to think about the Couch hurt his head. 

"Well, Halibel _is_ certainly a beaut," he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. He cocked his head to one side. "But if you're gonna go in any further, it'll probably do ya well to dampen your reiatsu, or she'll notice ya." 

The Espada quickly complied, carefully delving deeper into Halibel's part of Las Noches. All of Halibel's fraccion were female; as far as they knew no male - including Aizen himself - had ever entered so far. Well, maybe Syazel had. But he didn't really count. 

Grimmjow's eyes widened before he flattened himself into a dark corner, quickly followed by the rest of the men as two female arrancar passed by, too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice the intruders. 

"...and I'm telling you that she actually prefers cherry-scented lotion, Mira. You only _think_ she likes rose because of your name," the one with the pageboy haircut said, scrunching her nose in a manner that Grimmjow found absolutely adorable. It didn't hurt that she had a nice ass too. Her companion merely snorted, shaking her head vigorously. Nnoitra's head bobbed up and down as it followed the movement of her obviously unbound... assets. 

"Apache, girl, now you're just being stubborn. It's _obvious_ that Halibel-sama likes rose oil more because it feels better when she rubs it in between her..." The sound of their bickering faded as the two rounded a corner, leaving all five Espada and one shinigami very curious indeed as to between just _where_ the rose oil felt better when rubbed in. 

Needless to say, the intrepid explorers were not daunted in the least by their close escape, boldly going where no man had gone before. 

Before long they heard the faint sound of running water, and Grimmjow looked back at his partners in crime- err, companions. He grinned ferally. "She's takin' a shower. Jackpot." 

They made their way into Halibel's room, hid behind a conveniently located sofa, and poked their heads out to watch. 

"Now, remember. Duck when she comes out, I'll peek out and give the sign when she's lookin' away so you all holy shit." 

Halibel walked out of the shower, and Grimmjow's mind promptly ceased to function. 

Beside him he could hear Stark mutter a brief prayer under his breath in Spanish, the Espada's normally droopy eyes wider than they'd probably ever been before. Syazel's glass-shaped mask fragments cracked with a _tink_ that was painfully audible in the sudden silence. The liquid inside Aaroniero's capsuled head started to boil. 

As for Gin, the shinigami's smile took on a distinctly goofy quality as he gazed unabashedly upon dusky cocoa perfection. _Well, shit on a shingle. I think she might be even bigger'n Rangiku..._

Nnoitra's tongue was lolling out and - good _God_ the man had an obscenely long tongue. Even in his Halibel-induced funk Grimmjow couldn't help but stare at the man's That Goddamn Whale Grin, Fuckin' Long Tongue Included for a second before putting it out of his mind and shifting his gaze back to the female Espada. 

And he saw that it was Good. 

Unfortunately, Halibel had also seen them, and had turned to face them fully, doing absolutely nothing for the men's addled brains. She didn't speak, but something about her flat stare made Grimmjow suddenly very aware that a can of whoop-ass was going to be opened shortly, and with extreme prejudice. Through some sort of bizarre self-preservation instinct, the blue-haired Espada blurted the first thing that came to mind... 

--- 

Which led them to where they were now, with Halibel gazing calmly at the six perverts while said six perverts stared right back. She made no move to hide her revealed body, nor did she frantically reach for a towel. Nor did she shriek loudly or burst into tears or do anything else a normal woman might do in such a situation. 

Instead, she calmly reached to the shelf by her side for her zanpakuto, drew it from its scabbard, and released it. Her reiatsu flared around her body like balefire. 

Understandably, nobody involved in the Great Beatdown of Las Noches, as it came to be called, was exactly eager to divulge any details. But when all was said and done, none of the six men who'd undertaken Operation: Halibel could walk under their own power, Las Noches had to be rebuilt from the ground up, and even the citadel's mighty lord gave Halibel a wide berth for a month straight. 

Future Ruler of the Heavens or not, Aizen Sousuke liked his dangly bits fully intact and attached to his body exactly where they were, thank you very much. 


End file.
